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The Soldier's Poisoned Heart

Page 12

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“Yes, Mister Wakefield. They have churches in Australia.”

The questions, it seemed, never stopped, then. Simon’s lengthy period of quiet had come to a sudden and lasting halt. John Paul could see Lydia give him an apologetic look, but she didn’t say anything, and John Paul was left at his mercy. He answered dozens of questions about what Australia was like, if he’d ever seen one of the Aboriginals, and so on. What's more, the questions did not seem to be ending any time soon.

It was tiring, but he dismissed it as the irresistible magnetism of having something new in your circle of influence. Some questions were inevitable, whether he faced them now, or after the engagement.

It surprised John Paul to be thinking in those terms. He’d known the woman a little past a week, and yet his mind whirled with possibilities.

As they came back to the house, John Paul stopped outside the door. Simon opened it and Lydia stepped halfway through and offered her hand. John Paul took it gently in his own hand and kissed it. He could see her blushing as she turned and stepped inside.

Then Simon was standing on the stoop looking at him.

“So,” he said. John Paul stood at eye-level with him; John Paul was a tall man, and it was a bit unusual to look someone straight in the eye. He could see that Simon was struggling with something.

“Yes?” He asked at last.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Simon started, and then stopped.

“If what’s not too much to ask?”

Simon looked down at his feet and bit his lip.

“Never mind, Mister Foster. Have a good day.”

And then he, too, stepped through the door and into the house.

John Paul dismissed it and set off back to his horse. It was standing there, the same as he’d left it, eating from a feed bag. He climbed up, took a moment to catch his bearings, and started back home.

He returned home to find Henry lounging in a chair, leafing through a magazine.

“Ah,”

Henry said when he heard John Paul walk in. He stood and smiled, setting the magazine down. He had his arms wide open. “You’re back!”

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Not as such, uncle. But it’s a bit tiring to be alone here all the time, is it not?”

“I suppose so,” John Paul answered.

It had been much easier since he had begun to call on Lydia. He could remember the first week, with neither Henry nor a woman in his life, and how slowly the days had passed. It was enough to drive a man mad, but with Henry around, the help bustling throughout the house, and the visits he made to see Lydia, time passed with blinding speed.

“Well, I’ve a solution for you, uncle. I’ve found…” he paused here for a moment, as if to build the suspense, “… the finest tailor in Derby. You really must see his work.”

“I don’t know if I have the time,” he said.

“Think about it. There’s no harm in going to look, you know. We can let the help have the night off. I’m sure he has some business to attend to, and having a day of freedom might be nice.”

John Paul thought about it for a moment before agreeing. He had never had any good experience going to buy clothing, and now would be little different, he decided. Clothes were an annoyance, and buying them bothersome. But Henry insisted, and that was reason enough to indulge him.

After all, the only time he seemed to see the lad was at meals, and when he was working, the past few weeks. Indeed, that was how it seemed he’d set up his entire time there, to be either sleeping, working on the house, or eating. The situation wasn’t how he’d intended it, and if there was something Henry wanted to do then they would do it by way of apology.

They gave Thomas the night off, set up the carriage with Mark's help, and set off, the four of them, into Derby. He didn’t expect Thomas back until the next morning, at the earliest. Mark had promised to keep an eye on him, and they set off together, arm in arm. John Paul watched them walk a ways, until they turned out of sight and he couldn’t see them any longer. Then he stepped down to join his nephew, waiting below.

“Where is this shop?”

Henry nodded his head toward the north and started walking. John Paul followed behind.

“Oh, you’ll love it, Uncle.”



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